Whisper To Me of Love (36 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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Still greatly bewildered, but filled also with a powerful tenderness that he could not deny, he stared down at her sleeping body, marveling at her slender beauty as the candlelight played gently over her smooth, unmarked flesh.... He frowned suddenly, seeing for the first time the small, round scar on her hip. Rising up, he bent over and examined it more closely, his frown increasing as he realized it was a very old scar and clearly represented a crest of some sort. Now, why, he wondered darkly, would anyone have branded her in such a barbaric manner?
He was on the point of waking her to ask when there was suddenly a loud ruckus at the front of the house. Morgana jerked upright, sleep gone, even as Royce was leaping from the bed and flinging on his robe. Fearing another attack from the one-eyed man, he raced to his own room and snatched up the loaded pistol he now kept handy. Returning to Morgana's room, he lit another candle, and motioning her to remain where she was, he stepped into the wide hall.
Zachary, armed with pistol and candle as he was, met him, and as the noise continued unabated and was obviously coming from the front door of the house, they leaped down the long, winding staircase. Chambers, his nightcap askew, a stout poker in one hand, was already at the front door demanding identification from the shouting people on the other side.
Royce recognized one of the voices, Jacko's, and threw wide the door; Morgana's oldest brother and a vociferously protesting gatekeeper immediately stumbled into the black-and-white-tiled foyer. It took a moment for Royce to reassure the burly gatekeeper that Jacko was an acquaintance, and then, turning to Jacko, he demanded, “What is it? What is wrong?”
His face strained, the blue eyes dark with fear, Jacko gasped, “It's the one-eyed man! He betrayed us!
Ben's in Newgate!”
P
ART
F
OUR
Nemesis
Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceedingly small.
F.
VON
L
OGAU
, “Retribution”
C
HAPTER
22
T
here was a brief, electric silence, and then it seemed as if everyone spoke at once, an urgent, wild babble suddenly filling the hall until Royce's authoritative voice rose above it.
“Quiet!
And I mean quiet
immediately!”
he commanded, and silence fell. Looking at his butler, he said a trifle more calmly, “Chambers, go get some brandy and some glasses and bring them to the front salon. You did an excellent job,” Royce said to the gatekeeper, a muscular young fellow named Bullard. “I should have warned you about Morgana's brothers. You can go now, and with my thanks for fulfilling your duties so commendably.” Looking across at Zachary, Royce added, “You will come with me and Jacko.”
Royce had been so intent upon calming the babble that he had forgotten Morgana—she'd had no intention of remaining meekly in the bedchamber while he went to confront possible danger, but she had been forced to waste precious seconds searching for the gown that Royce had carelessly tossed away earlier. Since the garment was almost transparent, and not knowing what she would face downstairs, she'd had to waste more time scrambling around for a robe.
It had taken her only moments, but heedless of Royce's order to stay where she was, she had rushed to the top of the stairs and then stopped abruptly when she caught sight of Jacko. The fact that Jacko was alone didn't actually impinge upon her consciousness; all she saw was that her brother was there and that Royce had events well in hand. “Oh, Jacko! It's
you!”
she cried gladly, hurtling down the stairs like a small whirlwind, throwing herself into her brother's arms.
Chambers and Bullard had barely turned away when Morgana appeared, and they both halted and glanced back in time to see Jacko sweep her into a hearty embrace. A hint of a smile on his face, Chambers continued on his way, but Bullard hesitated, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Morgana's flushed, upturned face as she stared happily at Jacko. Clearing his throat nervously, Bullard finally dragged his blue eyes away from Morgana's face, and looking at Royce, he said bluntly, “Sir. Think you should know that there was a fine gentleman just this afternoon nosing around the entrance.” An apologetic expression on his earnest features, he muttered, “He was real polite, but he asked a lot of questions, but being as how you had warned me to be careful of strangers, I didn't answer him. I'm sorry to say that when he departed, I dismissed him from my mind—you
are
new to the area, and a lot of folk are just plain curious about the new owner.”
Royce's face was grim as he listened to John Bullard's words, but he wasn't surprised. He had been expecting something like this to happen, but he was puzzled why young Bullard had chosen this moment to tell him about the incident.
Bullard enlightened him almost immediately. “He was an older man, but think you should know that he looked uncommonly like that young lady over there.”
Zachary, an almost avuncular grin on his handsome face, had been too busy watching Morgana and Jacko's embrace to pay much attention to what Bullard had been saying to Royce, but he caught Bullard's last words, and his grin vanished. Worry evident in his topaz eyes, his gaze met Royce's. “Devlin! It had to have been him!”
Royce shot him a black look, making it clear he didn't want Zachary saying any more on the subject. Realizing his mistake and embarrassed by it, Zachary beat a hasty retreat, and turning to the oblivious Morgana and Jacko, he said quickly, “Let us go to the salon—Chambers will be back soon with the brandy, and if I know him, or rather, Ivy, probably some food to sustain us at this hour of the morning.”
After the trio had disappeared, Royce said to Bullard, “What's done is done ... but in the future, I want to know
instantly
when
anyone,
man or woman, child or stripling, approaches you and begins to ask questions—no matter how unimportant their questions may seem. Now, precisely what did the gentleman ask you?”
A crestfallen expression on his face, Bullard replied instantly, “I can't remember exactly, sir, but I recall that he wanted to know how many people were in the household, if you'd hired any local people, and did I know any of them. He was very friendly, and when he asked if I knew how long you would be staying here, I just guessed it was because he was curious about a newcomer—people in the country
are
interested in such things.” Shamefacedly he admitted, “I should have been more suspicious, especially after you warned us about strangers, but I just dismissed the gent as being nosy.” He frowned. “Now that I think of it, he did seem overly curious to know if there was a young lady staying with you, and he seemed to take quite an interest in the fact that the property was completely surrounded by the yew hedge. Seem to remember him asking me if the gateway was the only way into the property and if someone actually lived in the cottage there.” Bullard suddenly grinned. “It's a good thing I hadn't seen the young lady before or I might have given something away—they look so very alike.”
“Well, that's something I'd prefer you keep to yourself,” Royce said bluntly.
Bullard glanced at him keenly, and then, nodding his blond head, he said fervently, “You can trust me, sir! I wasn't rude, but I didn't tell him anything. He didn't seem to like it when I told him that the master didn't encourage his servants to gossip! Drove off in a bit of a temper, I can tell you.”
Royce smiled faintly, amused at the idea of the haughty Earl being reprimanded by a mere servant for gossiping. Clapping Bullard on the shoulder, Royce urged him toward the door. “No harm's been done, so don't dwell on it. Do, however, warn me the very instant anyone questions you, and tell your brothers the same.” Smiling easily, Royce opened the front door and asked lightly, “Have you all settled comfortably in the cottage?”
Bullard nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, sir. It's a good thing that there are three of us living there and taking turns at the gate, otherwise I might have missed that young man tonight.” And thinking that Royce might have thought he had committed further dereliction in his duties, he said quickly, “Before me and the young man came to the house, I woke Elmer and Harry, and they are standing guard until I get back.”
“Very good. I will rest easier for what is left of the night, knowing that I am in the competent hands of the Bullard brothers.”
Beaming proudly, Bullard departed, and after shutting the door behind him, Royce stared at the carved wood for a moment, a faint smile curving his mobile mouth. It seemed that he had chosen his gatekeepers well, if tonight's actions were anything to go by. Then his smile faded as he considered what John Bullard had told him. So the Earl was asking questions, was he? Why? Royce wondered. Was it simply the embarrassment of having such an obvious byblow of his embarking upon an undeniably scandalous career? Or was there another reason?
When Royce entered the salon, he found Morgana and Jacko sitting side by side on one of the low, tapestry-covered sofas in the large, elegant room. Zachary, in his night robe, was lounging in a channel-back chair of straw-colored satin, and it was apparent from the tense expression on all three young faces that they had been discussing Ben's incarceration in Newgate. Strolling over to stand in front of the handsome fireplace with its classically designed mantel of gray marble, Royce said quietly, “I think that we should postpone any further talk about Ben until after Chambers has served us and departed.”
Since that topic was uppermost in everyone's minds, it was an oddly quiet room that Chambers entered a few moments later. Aware that he was preventing conversation, and not unnaturally consumed by great curiosity, Chambers tried to go about his duties quickly, longing to stay and listen and yet knowing that nothing of interest would be said as long as he remained in the room. Setting down a huge tray which held a variety of liquid refreshments, brandy, whiskey, even a pot of tea, as well as several plates heaped with cheeses, breads, cold ham, and thinly sliced roast beef, he bowed in Royce's direction and said evenly, “Will that be all, sir?”
Royce nodded, and eyeing the plates of food, smiled. “I see that Ivy must have been aroused by our little contretemps also.”
Glad of an excuse to linger, Chambers nodded. “Oh, yes, sir! The pounding on the front door woke several of us, but”—he sent a meaningful look at Royce—“while Ivy was determined to follow me, I insisted she remain in the kitchen as I thought it best if I saw to any trouble by myself. I ordered the others to go back to bed—told them that it was probably nothing and that Ivy and I would take care of everything.” His expression becoming even more eloquent, he added pithily, “The less people involved, the better, don't you think, sir?”
Amusement twinkled in Royce's eyes; he knew very well that Chambers would like to be invited to remain, but indicating that the butler was no longer needed, he walked with him to the door. “You handled the situation most admirably ... and I shall not force you to languish too long before I satisfy all of your curiosity about tonight's events.” He hesitated a moment, the twinkle dying from his eyes, and said seriously, “For now, you will have to be content to learn that our unexpected visitor is Morgana's brother, Jacko Fowler, and that he has brought us important news about her other brother, Ben. I would prefer you keep that information between yourself and Ivy.”
Immensely pleased that the master had enlightened him somewhat, Chambers bowed low, and sedately left the room, his neatly tied flannel robe flapping softly around his bony ankles. Turning back to the other three, Royce pushed his hands in the pockets of his own night robe and said quietly, “I think we can talk freely now. Tell us what happened, Jacko.”
Morgana poured her brother a glass of whiskey and pressed it into his hand as Jacko began speaking. “Since our ship sails on Monday, me and Ben were planning on coming down here tonight to see Pip.” He took a big gulp of the whiskey and, sending Royce a defiant look, went on doggedly, “We figured you wouldn't mind if we stayed overnight—we wanted to see for ourselves that all was well with Pip and to make certain that you were going to keep your word about bringing her with you when you sail in the fall. Besides, being as how it would be our last chance to see our sister for several months, we didn't think you'd—”
“What the devil are you talking about?” Morgana demanded sharply, an accusatory glance moving back and forth between Royce's inscrutable features and Jacko's stubbornly truculent ones.
“You haven't told her?” Jacko asked in astonishment. “She doesn't know that we were to sail to America on Monday?”
“Ah, no, as a matter of fact,” Royce answered easily, ignoring Morgana's gasp of stunned outrage. “I had intended to tell her long before now, but the time never seemed right.” He glanced at Morgana, his golden gaze moving with unmistakable appreciation over her lovely features. She looked very small and appealing in a robe of purple velvet, her curly black hair rioting in wild disorder over her head as she sat there beside her brother, but the furious expression in those slanted gray eyes ... Royce sighed. She was angry, and a part of him didn't blame her for feeling as she did. He
should
have told her. His eyes meeting hers steadily, he admitted bluntly, “I wanted you settled in before I embarked upon an explanation that you weren't going to like. You were going to be upset to learn that your brothers were leaving you here in my care while they sailed to America, and I wanted to postpone distressing you as long as I could—at least until you felt more comfortable here at Lime Tree Cottage.”
Ben forgotten at the moment, oblivious to Zachary and Jacko's utterly rapt interest, Morgana glared at Royce, the gray eyes dark as storm clouds. “Distress me?” she demanded. “When has
that
ever stopped you?” Springing up angrily from the sofa, she stalked across the room and stood militantly in front of Royce. “Is that what tonight was all about? Is that why you came to my bed?” Her voice rising scornfully, she added, “To make me more
comfortable?”
“An unfortunate choice of words on my part,” Royce answered coolly, the topaz eyes watching her narrowly. “As for tonight and what happened between us, I don't intend to discuss it in front of an audience!”
Suddenly becoming aware of Jacko and Zachary and their undisguised fascination with what was being said, Morgana blushed becomingly. Her fight disappearing in an instant, her mouth set in a mutinous line, she flounced down on the sofa next to Jacko, contenting herself with throwing Royce a look full of daggers.
With great aplomb, Royce poured himself a snifter of brandy and stood once more before the fireplace. “Now, where were we?” And glancing at Jacko, he continued with unruffled composure, “I believe you were saying something about coming down to see your sister before you sailed on Monday?”
“Er, yes,” Jacko muttered, still caught up in the revealing exchange between Morgana and Royce. The changes in his sister in the weeks since he had last seen her were enormous. She was no longer a grimy little street urchin of indeterminate sex; instead, he had been confronted by a beautiful,
clean
young lady in costly clothes—granted, the clothes consisted of little more than a nightgown and robe, but Jacko could recognize quality when he saw it. Where once dirty, unkempt hair had framed an unwashed face that habitually wore a pinched, almost crafty expression, he now found silky, artfully cut curls, and the features he now stared at were softer and more lovely than he had ever imagined. There was a bloom about Morgana that was unmistakable, a sparkle in the gray eyes that had never been there before, her clear skin glowing with health and vitality, and even the way she moved was different, flowing and feminine where before she had been forced to hide behind a boyish disguise. The changes pleased Jacko, and yet they made him feel slightly awkward, almost as if he didn't know this beguiling, sweetly scented little creature who had flung herself into his arms and whose fingers even now clung tightly to his dirty hand. He had been self-conscious, uncomfortably aware of his filthy body, greasy, disheveled hair, and equally filthy, foul-smelling, stained clothing, but the sharp exchange between Pip and Royce had somehow reassured him. She might be wearing fancy clothes and look like a lady, but Pip was still Pip! Gathering up his straying thoughts, Jacko pressed Pip's hand more warmly and said, “We had planned to be here before dark. We figured we would stay here until it was time to leave for the docks in London.” He shot Royce a dulcet look. “Thought you wouldn't mind providing us transportation back to London, and we didn't think that if the one-eyed man noticed we were missing, he would look for us here.”

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